


daylily

by wclfwoman



Series: pliroy one-shots [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Drabble, Getting Together, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-05-08 06:15:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14688189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wclfwoman/pseuds/wclfwoman
Summary: He could just be himself.  That tends to rile Jean-Jacques up— Yuri would let the other skater take his frustrations out on him.  The sight of his sleeves straining around his biceps as the Canadien crosses his arm over his chest could make a man drool.  Yuri almost wipes his mouth to make sure he isn’t.“I heard she dumped you.”  Yuri says, an eyebrow raising as he speaks.  Jean-Jacques’ eyes darken.  Yuri’s heart races at the sight.





	daylily

_ daylily (noun):  _ _ a lily that bears large yellow, red, or orange flowers, each flower lasting only one day. _

 

His head is in hands.  The only one at the banquet not dancing, aside from Yuri.  Yuri’s lips twitch an inch into a snarl. He think it comes off more pitying than anything else.  He scrubs at his face. Yuri can see him heave a sigh, broad shoulders moving under the no doubt soft material of his shirt.  Some expensive designer brand that Viktor had swooned over as soon as Jean-Jacques had walked through the doors. Yuri crosses his legs, leaning against the wall by the bar.  He can’t hide his stare behind his hair this time— Lilia had knotted it back into a delicate braid that wraps around and sits upon his head, Yuri looks like a German barmaid— and he furrows his brow as Jean-Jacques lifts a glass of wine to his lips, the merlot staining his mouth like blood.  It makes Yuri’s grip on his whiskey tighten a fraction. 

Isabella hadn’t been draped across Jean-Jacques arm this time.  His last instagram post featuring her dates back to a year ago. Not that Yuri had stalked his social media the second the woman was understood to be absent, not just late. 

Mila had whispered conspiratorially in his ear as Jean-Jacques walked past them at the check in.  Something about the wedding being called off. Isabella getting a job at a fashion magazine in Berlin.  Things not working out. It made Yuri angry. He had never cared about their relationship before now. Perhaps it was the consistency of it.  Yuri hated change. And this whole— let her live her life without being tied down aspect to it all reminded Yuri too much of his mother. He understood, of course.  Isabella had been supporting Jean-Jacques his entire career. Since they were 16. She deserved to have her own success. But did an entire relationship need to be sacrificed to achieve it.  Long distance was quite popular nowadays. 

And yet, there is a budding satisfaction in the back of his mind.  An eagerness that stirs in the face of Jean-Jacques’ obvious heartbreak.  

This is his chance.

He knocks back the rest of his whiskey.  Leaving it on the bar counter with a underneath, condensation soaking into the money.  He saunters, hips swaying in a motion he studied from Mila, Sara, the other women, over the years.  The sharp click of his heels on the ballroom floor captures Jean-Jacques’ attention and those blue, blue eyes are piercing as he watches Yuri come closer.  A smirk curving Yuri’s lips. Yuri can see Jean-Jacques swallow. The puffiness around his eyes somewhat dampens the mood, but perhaps if Yuri is successful, Jean-Jacques will be crying for an entirely different reason later that night.

Yuri braces a hip against Jean-Jacques’ table, and he has to tip his head back to look up at Yuri.  Expression blank. Nerves tighten Yuri’s stomach. Maybe he was being too confident. Last time he tried to flirt, Otabek had collapsed into a pile of drunken giggles.  He could just be himself. That tends to rile Jean-Jacques up— Yuri would let the other skater take his frustrations out on him. The sight of his sleeves straining around his biceps as the Canadien crosses his arm over his chest could make a man drool.  Yuri almost wipes his mouth to make sure he isn’t. 

“I heard she dumped you.”  Yuri says, an eyebrow raising as he speaks.  Jean-Jacques’ eyes darken. Yuri’s heart races at the sight.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business.”  Jean-Jacques’ voice is tight. Anger just there beneath the surface.  It makes Yuri’s skin tingle. Jean Jacques seems to realize this. Yuri knows he’s easy to read. 

“Maybe I want it to be my business.”  Yuri tries for coy, eyelashes fluttering, gaze softening.  He trails a pink painted nail along the length of Jean-Jacques’ thigh.  They open in response, situating Yuri between them. Jean-Jacques leans back, lips twisting into a grin too vicious to be nice.  This is not his J-J Style smile. 

“You should keep your nose out of other people's lives, kitten.”  The anger is there now, laced with a threat and something that in any other circumstance Yuri would call lust.  Yuri thinks Jean-Jacques would punch him. The pet name softens the blow. 

“I can’t help it,”  Yuri pouts. He reaches up to run his fingers through Jean-Jacques’ hair, thick and silky.  It’d be fun to pull. “You look so sad by yourself. Don’t you want some company?” Head tilted to the side, a loose blond curl strays across his forehead.  Jean-Jacques is staring at his lips. 

“Not from you,”  Jean-Jacques nudges the tip of his shoe against Yuri’s shin.  “Besides, I thought you hated me.” Less of a question, it sounds more like he’s stating a simple fact.  Yuri’s brow furrows. 

“You annoy me.  Hate fizzled away after puberty.”  Yuri wishes his hair was down, the urge to toss it over his shoulder is almost overwhelming.  Instead, he simply tips his nose into the air, a tiny scoff falling from his lips.

“You’re still in puberty, kitten.  You’re only 18.” It comes off as a warning.  Only 18. As though Jean-Jacques is trying to let Yuri know that he won’t touch him.  Yuri will not be heading this caution.

“Only 18 and legal, J.J.”  Yuri wants to be small again.  The effect of looking at the other through his eyelashes isn’t as influential.  Jean-Jacques seems to believe otherwise. A large hand wraps around the muscled width of Yuri’s thigh, squeezing.  Hard enough to bruise. Yuri holds back a wince. He thinks this might be a test. 

“Just as mouthy as ever aren’t you,”  Jean-Jacques pauses, Yuri wonders if one day the other would be easier to read.  His tone turns devious, “You should put it to good use for once.” Yuri is a bit taken back, that was quick.  What happened to only 18? Is the wine hitting the Canadien all at once right this moment? Somehow he doubts it.  This is just a game still, and Yuri needs to best the other in order to get what he wants. He’s certain of it.

“Right here, J.J.?  Would you like me to get on my knees, pull your cock from your pants before the entire room?  Let them watch me choke on it?” Yuri steps closer, Jean-Jacques’ thighs locking around his knees.  Yuri smiles, fingers the loosened knot of Jean-Jacques’ tie. “Hm?”

“Big talk for such a little boy,” Jean-Jacques’ hand drifts up, rested just under the curve of Yuri’s ass. “You want to say such nasty things, but I don’t think you know what you’re doing.  You’re toying with the wrong man, kitten.” A shiver goes down Yuri’s spine and nails dig into his inner thigh as that grip tightens. Such big, big hands. Yuri wants to suck his fingers down his throat.

“Let me prove it to you,”  Yuri says, leaning down, his words brushing in a hot breath against Jean-Jacques’ mouth.  The other’s tongue wettens his lips just after, as though to taste the air Yuri breathes. 

Jean-Jacques smiles.  Yuri’s heart pounds in his chest.  The rest of the room has faded away.  And the sharp, clean scent of Jean-Jacques’ cologne cloys in his nose.

“Oh, kitten.” The other sighs, petting at the outside of Yuri’s thigh.  “You’re going to be the death of me.” There is resignation in his voice.  Yuri has won.

#  *

Yuri is pressed against the wall of the elevator, and Jean-Jacques’ tongue is in his mouth.  Hands hold tight to his hips, and Yuri feels the bones creak under it. He moans. Teeth trail along the line of his jaw, down his neck, digging into the skin above his collarbone.  Jean-Jacques’ is licking away blood. Sucking, bruising, owning. His cock throbs in his dress trousers. He wants to cry.

Jean-Jacques is laughing into his neck, licking at the mess of saliva he left there.  Yuri’s legs tremble. 

“Not much to say now, kitten.”  The voice is rough, gravely, thick with frustration, the need for a good fuck.  Yuri can be that. His own voice long gone. He can’t even conceptualize a sentence, much less speak.  His hold on Jean-Jacques’ shoulders the only thing keeping him grounded. 

The light flashes on the number floor, a too high ding filling the small space, breaking up the sound of Jean-Jacques’ panting and Yuri’s whimpers. 

“Come on, kitten.  Time to prove yourself.”  He’s laughing as he speaks, tugging Yuri with an arm around his waist out of the elevator.  Yuri gives the other his weight, and Jean-Jacques doesn’t complain.

The door is the second on the right, just outside the entrance of the elevator.  Yuri sees this as a blessing. He tries to gain his bearings as Jean-Jacques fumbles his key card.  The door unlocks with a chirp. And Yuri is trying to be strong, trying to be confident, shoving at Jean-Jacques’ chest as they step into the room.  Pushing him back and back and back until his knees buckle and the brunet is falling onto the bed. He catches himself, legs falling open. 

Yuri’s chest is heaving.  And he drops to his knees, scuffling closer until he can mouth at a clothed knee, teeth digging through the fabric of Jean-Jacques’ trousers as he makes his way up one thick thigh.  He rests a blush-reddened cheek against the inside of it, hands fiddling with the loose fabric around Jean-Jacques’ calves. Jean-Jacques cocks an eyebrow. Smile, wide and lacking the threat from earlier.  It makes Yuri’s stomach twist.

“Well, sweetheart?  You just going to stay there all night, or are you going to do something?”  He’s petting a hand through Yuri’s hair, or at least attempting to with his braids still intact.  If Lilia hadn’t shoved about 300 bobby pins into Yuri’s scalp he’d insist on Jean-Jacques undoing his hair until it fell down his back in waves. Instead, he sighs.  Lifts his head enough to nuzzle into the touch before leaning away in order to lift his hands. Once last smooth over those thighs— God, they haunt the blond. He thinks he could die happy smothered between them.  It takes him a moment to get the belt undone, but once it’s off, Yuri is zipping him down and Jean-Jacques lifts his hips until Yuri can get his trousers and those obnoxious red briefs down around his feet and then off.  Yuri chucks them somewhere behind him, Jean-Jacques snorts.

He’s already hard.  Thicker than Yuri, and a bit longer.  It rests against Jean-Jacques’ stomach, the tip brushing his belly button.  And oh, it’s pierced. A silver barbell looping through the slit. Yuri’s lips part, hungering for it.  

From there it’s almost a frenzy, the cockhead slipping past Yuri’s pliant lips, and Yuri knows they’ll be swollen and bruises in only a few seconds.  Jean-Jacques’ heavy palms come to cup Yuri’s face, thumb brushing the soft skin beneath Yuri’s eye. He’d warn him not to smear his mascara if he wasn’t too busy lavishing Jean-Jacques’ cock with his tongue, guiding the rest of his— honestly, gorgeous— dick into Yuri’s mouth, the head of it slipping down the back of Yuri’s throat with ease.  He gags at first, the initial feeling always a bit jarring. Tears well, and Jean-Jacques coos.

“You’re doing so well. So beautiful, kitten.”  His fingers tremble where they rest against Yuri’s face, his voice just as shakey.  It makes pride bloom warm and bright inside of the blond. 

Yuri starts to move now.  Head bobbing, his throat swallowing around the thickness in his mouth, tongue swirling about the length.  He pulls back to suck at the slit, tonguing the piercing, the cold metal more appealing than Yuri thought it would be.  Jean-Jacques’ hips thrust up, and Yuri lets out a soft cough, tilting his head up to glare at the other. Jean-Jacques offers an apologetic smile.  Yuri pushes his hands down on Jean-Jacques’ waist, holding him still. 

“Sorry, kitten.  It’s just so good.”  Yuri rolls his eyes. His own cock pulsing in his pants, dampening his briefs and trousers with pre-cum.  He groans around the dick in his mouth, before continuing. Eyes slipping shut. Jean-Jacques’ pants grow heavier and more strained above him. 

With one hand keeping Jean-Jacques down, his other drops to wrap gentle fingers around completely smooth balls. His nose buried in the evenly trimmed curls that frame his shaft.  He thumbs at the space between Jean-Jacques’ balls and his clenching hole, and the hips under his grip stutter. Pre-cum coating his tongue and throat. Yuri pulls back until just the head rests between his lips, and then forward again, cock slipping down his throat.  He rubs at his dry hole, pressing lightly until the tip of his thumb dips in. Jean-Jacques bites back a moan.

He pushes his thumb in and out, sucking hard, jaw starting to ache.  There’s saliva coating his chin, his cheeks, dripping down his neck. He knows his mascara is starting to run, Jean-Jacques ever attentive even now, keeping the black lines from staining Yuri’s cheeks as he rubs them away with his fingers.  There is sweat beading at Yuri’s brow and his own hips start to roll, thrusting until he finds friction with Jean-Jacques’ shin.

“Yes, come on, Yuri.  I’m so close, kitten. So close.  Will you come in those nice dress pants for me, baby?  I’d love that.” Yuri whines. Jean-Jacques’ cock jerks in his mouth, and then he’s coming, painting Yuri’s throat with cum.  He swallows it all. He keeps suckling as the other softens in Yuri’s mouth, until Jean-Jacques is pushing him back with a wince and his cock falls from Yuri’s lips.

Yuri is gasping, tears falling in earnest now, and Jean-Jacques is back to petting at his hair.  Scratching around the braids, a wide, calloused palm dropping to the back of Yuri’s neck. It’s sticky with sweat.  Yuri’s hips roll into Jean-Jacques’ leg, and any other time he’d be burning with embarrassment, but right now, he can’t stop.  His forehead presses into Jean-Jacques’ knee.

“Kitten, oh, kitten.  You did so good, come now.  You deserve it. Let go.” And Yuri does, muscles clenching so hard they ache.  But the following laxness is surreal, and his pants are soaked through. The front darkening as Yuri comes.  Jean-Jacques is dragging him up from the floor, gripping under his armpits until he’s laying back with Yuri on his chest.  Lips pressing to Yuri’s forehead. “You did so good. You’re so beautiful. Thank you, kitten.” Yuri wants to push away, clean himself up, but he lets Jean-Jacques hold him.  Maybe he needed this more than the blowjob. 

Yuri grumbles in fake-agitation, even with his fingers curling around the collar of Jean-Jacques’ shirt, and his legs curling up as he toes off his shoes.  His face is hidden in the curve of Jean-Jacques’ neck. The man is still rambling, every word punctuated with a kiss to the side of Yuri’s face and his clothed shoulder.

“Shut up, J.J..  You’re ruining my afterglow.”  Jean-Jacques’ chest moves under Yuri’s body with silent laughter.  Yuri lands a weak punch on his shoulder. The grouchiness in his tone had been betrayed by the small smile that tips at the corners of his mouth.

“Of course, kitten.”  Jean-Jacques murmurs along the gentle slope of Yuri’s ear.  The blond shivers, and settles in closer. Sleep threatening.  “Of course.” There is a fondness in his words that Yuri has never heard from the other man, especially not in direction towards Yuri. 

Maybe they both won this time.

**Author's Note:**

> A short and not-so-sweet one shot of one of my favorite rarepairs.
> 
> Written while listening to this [album]().
> 
> Unbeta'd and my first pliroy fanfic. If you find any typos, feel free to let me know.
> 
> (Also, I need a new word for cock and dick that isn't terrible to read. Someone become a genius and make one up and get it in the dictionary, thank you.)
> 
> Comments are always welcome and appreciated.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr [here]().


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